


Breathin'

by I_Cant_Write



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Logan's Room, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Roman is an asshole in this one guys, Virgil is an anxious baby, first analogical fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Cant_Write/pseuds/I_Cant_Write
Summary: Logan has always been the only one who could calm him.Or, in which Virgil has a panic attack and Logan helps him out.





	1. Swear The Sky's Fallin'

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> I've had this one in the works for a while, but with Thomas' new cover, I thought I would release it! 
> 
> (If you haven't seen it yet, check out his cover of "Breathin'" by Ariana Grande, it's AMAZING)
> 
> These guys are so cute.
> 
> Keep in mind: panic attacks are different for every person; this is just MY EXPERIENCE with panic attacks. I thought it would be easier if I took my own experience with having a bad panic attack and let Virgil use it.
> 
> I do understand that this is NOT everyone's experience with a panic attack, and I'm not trying to invalidate you in any way! I just thought that using my own experience as a source would be best.
> 
> Sorry I'm not writing as much now that I'm in college! But I hope to continue writing for all of the Sanders Sides, because I love them.

_I look up and the whole room's spinning_  
_You take my cares away_  
_I can so overcomplicate, people tell me to medicate_  
_Feel my blood runnin', swear the sky's fallin'_  
_How do I know if this shit's fabricated?_  
_Time goes by and I can't control my mind_  
_Don't know what else to try, but you tell me every time..._  
_Just keep breathin'_  
_~ Ariana Grande_  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thomas had just handed over the video idea to Roman for final touches, and the whole group breathed a sigh of relief: the video was done. Virgil turned to head up to his room. 

The creak of every step screeched loud in his ears and rang in the back of his skull.

He clutched his chest, gasping at some sort of phantom pain. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

Virgil stopped at the top of the stairs by his room for a breather. Leaning back against the wall, he stared up at the ceiling and listened to the gentle throbbing of his heart.

It hurt with every pulse, and he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself. 

Why did it hurt so much? It felt like his heart was going to burst apart. 

Logan had said something last week about how heart attacks would be more common as Thomas got older.

What if the chest pain wasn’t just fear?

Oh god, he had to protect him from this. He had to tell him, had to warm him.

He shook his head. This was stupid. He _was not having a heart attack._

But the thought shoved it’s way back in, and he choked on his inhale.

His chest wouldn’t expand, his lungs wouldn’t take in the air, and his pain suddenly blinded him. He stumbled past the door to his room. His skin flushed with a tingling heat. His breathing came in gasps.

He was so, so hot. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He struggled to pull off his hoodie. His hands were shaking, the trembling traveling all through his body. His vision swam, darkening around the edges. Colored spots floated in front of him.

His legs buckled beneath him. He felt pain stab through his knees when he hit the floor. His pulse thumped so loudly in his ears.

_This is what death feels like._

He burst into tears, sobbing. Bile rose in his throat. He looked around, shaking, his heart pounding faster, his breathing coming in short, sobbing rasps.

_And you’re alone. You’re alone. You’re dying and you’re all by yourself._

“Virgil?”

_Help!_

“Virgil, hey,” he vaguely registered Logan in front of him. He said something else that Virgil didn’t hear.

He felt Logan touch his hand, and his immediate reaction was to jerk away. His whole body seized, black spots floated in his vision. The world’s colors inverted. His vision twisted and swayed. He sobbed once and shuts his eyes.

And when he opens them again, he isn’t in his room.

He sucks in a breath of fresh air, and it’s like breathing in peppermint.

Wait.

He breathes deeply through his nose.

He _is_ breathing in the scent of peppermint.

His vision clears a little, and he scans the place around him. 

It’s a bedroom, large, and painted with soft grays and other neutral colors. It has big windows and bookshelves along the wall and a large bed with a blue comforter. On the other side, there’s a desk with a laptop, and a small coffee bar.

Outside the window are pine trees and a spectacular view of mountains. Soft rain falls against the window, and he just…breathes.

As his mind returns to him, he hears a voice.

“‘No – well, I was only one when they died,’ said Harry, his eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in Hagrid’s heavy snores. ‘But I’ve found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?’”

“Chamber of Secrets…?” Virgil croaks. His throat is sore. He doesn’t know why.

Logan nods and shuts the book quietly. He can feel Logan’s eyes on him. He doesn’t meet them.

He sucks in another breath. The dark spots in his vision are receding.

“How…are you feeling?”

“I…” Virgil tugs at his sleeve, “What happened to me?”

Logan purses his lips, “I found you on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to be having a rather intense panic attack, enough so that you were unaware of what I was saying or doing, so, I brought you here.”

Panic attack? That’s it?

Yeesh, worse than usual, I guess. It felt like he was dying.

Logan looks around pensively, “I find that, when Thomas is anxious, it is helpful for him to think about things logically and analytically. It gives him a calmer, more objective perspective. I thought it might help you, as well.”

“This place is amazing,” Virgil looks around, “Where are we?”

A pause.

“My room,” Logan says softly, “This is my bedroom.”

Oh.

Virgil flushes, mumbling, “That’s…probably why I feel so calm and objective, then.”

“I hope so,” Logan sighs, “I apologize, but I did have to touch you, even though that is not recommended for those who are panicking. I had to change your shirt, and put yours in the wash.”

Virgil, startled, examines himself and realizes that his hoodie and shirt are gone, replaced with a soft gray t-shirt.

“You…vomited on yourself,” Logan shifts, a little embarrassed, “It didn’t seem right to leave you in that state.”

Virgil hides his face in his hands. Logan saw him like that. 

God, he can feel the pitied stare. 

Logan, who was always so put together, saw him _fall apart._

“Virgil,” Logan shifts, “I was…rather worried about you, so I researched some ways to calm people down. Would you mind if I touched you?”

Virgil pauses and imagines how it would feel for Logan to touch him. It isn’t unwelcome, so he nods slowly.

Logan takes one of his hands, and turns it palm up. 

Virgil sits back, a little guarded, but lets Logan take control of his hand. His grip is soft, letting Virgil pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

Logan, one finger at a time, strokes a line from Virgil’s wrist to the tip of his fingers. Then, he draws a small circle in his palm, and starts again.

It’s methodical, predictable. He likes watching it.

“Feeling any better?” Logan rumbles.

Virgil nods, and scoots closer to Logan.

“We should move to my bed,” Logan stands, offering a hand, “It will provide a more comfortable sitting experience.”

Virgil can feel a blush creep up his face at the idea, but his back and shoulders ache, so he takes his hand, standing on wobbly legs.

Logan guides him to the bed, then slides onto it, patting the space next to him. Virgil collapses onto him, rather ungracefully, and curls around his body.

Logan sucks in a breath, and Virgil’s gripped with a sudden pang of fear that maybe he doesn’t want Virgil to do that, but then Logan wraps his arms around him and guides his head to his chest.

“Is this okay?” Logan asks softly, “Is this too much?”

Virgil shakes his head, and Logan moves a hand upward, running it through his hair. Virgil closes his eyes, feeling his fingers move, and listening to the rain. 

“Want me to keep reading to you?” Logan hums, which reverberates against his head, “It seemed to help before.”

Virgil shakes his head, “Just…wanna listen to the rain?”

Logan nods, and continues stroking his hair. Virgil sighs, and melts into him. Feels his warmth, his heartbeat, his breathing raising his head up and down.

“Virgil.”

Virgil opens his eyes. Logan is standing beside the bed, leaning over him. His hand is warm and comforting on his shoulder.

“Virgil, I hate to wake you, but it’s been a while, and I think you should drink something. You’re likely dehydrated…as long as you don’t still feel sick.”

Virgil nods, and sits up slowly.

“Is there anything you need?” Logan asks softly.

“A…” he coughs, “A cup of tea would be great, actually.”

Logan nods, “I’m going to get started on that, then. Meanwhile, why don’t you use my bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face? It might make you feel better. Also, your clothes are clean if you would like to put them on.”

Virgil nods, and drags his heavy body off of the bed. The bathroom is just to the left, and, he steps in, shutting the door behind him with a soft creak. 

It’s bright, stark, and minimalistic. Not busy enough to bother him. 

He materializes his own toothbrush and brushes his teeth, and then soaks his face in the water. He turns, and realizes his shirt and hoodie are sitting on the toilet, freshly cleaned and folded. Cleaner than they’ve probably been in months.

His safety blanket. He lifts it up, unfolding it, and holds it in front of him.

He studies himself in the mirror, wearing Logan’s big, comfy shirt, and realizes he doesn’t really want to take it off to put the hoodie on.

He folds his hoodie again and places it back, and heads back into the other room.

“Ah,” Logan nods, brandishing a mug of tea, “I was starting to get worried. Here, chamomile, for a calming effect.”

“Smells good,” Virgil comments, taking the mug.

“Did…you…” Logan frowns, “Did you not see I left your clothes in there?”

“No, I saw,” Virgil flushes a little, “I just…didn’t feel like it.”

Logan won’t look at him, but he swears he sees a bit of a blush and a smirk on his face before it’s quickly hidden behind his normal stoic resting expression.

Logan has his laptop, and he motions for him to come over, “I have some vine compilations, some sand and slime videos…I thought maybe watching something that required very little attention might keep you calm.”

“Thank you,” Virgil sits on the bed, taking a sip. It’s good tea. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay now, Logan, really.”

“It was probably the stress over the video-making process,” Logan nods, “I am glad you’re feeling better,” Logan shifts, going a little pink, “…and I hope I was a part of that, in some way.”

“…you were all of it, really,” Virgil shrugs, sitting back, “I’m used to dealing with those attacks by myself, and it never turns out well. Although,” Virgil sighs, “I’ve never had one that bad before. They usually take weeks of recovery time. Today?” Virgil smiles a little into his tea, “Hours.”

Logan seems to puff his chest with pride, and nods, “I am…very glad that this helped you, Virgil. To be honest, I feared the worst when I found you.”

Virgil swallows and bites his lip.

“Hey, Logan?” Virgil sips his tea and mumbles, “….Would you mind if…maybe every time this happens…if I came in here, and you…read to me and stuff?”

“Mind?” Logan frowns, “Virgil, I want you to. I would even go so far to say as I’m going to force you to. One should never be alone when dealing with this. I do not want you to be alone.”

_I do not want you to be alone._

Why did that make him feel so good and warm in his chest and his stomach, to hear him say that? He struggles to keep his face neutral, and sniffs. Stupid feelings.

Logan leans in and holds eye contact with him, which Virgil usually hates, but this time it makes his stomach flutter, “Virgil…I hope that you trust me to help you.”

_Trust you?_

“I do more than that,” he can feel Logan’s breath on his lips, “You’re the first person…who I’ve ever wanted to ask for help from,” Virgil bites his lip, “This is the calmest I’ve felt in a long time. I don’t want to leave. Not for…a while, at least,” Virgil looks down at the bedspread, “Is…that okay?”

Logan leans back, and looks at him hopefully, “Of course. I would love to have you here for as long as you wish,” Logan clears his throat, and his cheeks tint pink. He glances away, “Would you…like to watch something?”

Virgil nods and curls up on his chest again, and Logan puts on some stupid vine compilation. Logan’s hand is in his hair again.

After while, the movements on his head still, and Virgil glances up to realizes Logan is sound asleep under his head.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Virgil buries his face into Logan’s chest before drifting off to sleep.  
________________________________________________________________________________

When he wakes, Logan is gone.

Not “gone” gone, more like, “I just went down to get breakfast and I didn’t want to wake you,” gone.

He pops into the kitchen, his stomach rumbling. He threw up his dinner yesterday, and so it felt like he hadn’t eaten in forever.

Virgil reaches on his tippy toes to get a mug out of the cabinet and then pours a cup of coffee out of the pot. He turns to Patton, who’s at the stove, “What’s cooking, Padre?”

“Virgil!” Patton replies gleefully, “Some pancakes. Would you like one?”

“Would love one, Pat,” Virgil grabs a plate.

“Careful, watch where you step, kiddo,” Patton nods, handing him a pancake, “You wouldn’t wanna fall _flat_ on your face, now would ya?”

Virgil grins, dolloping on some syrup, “If I do, we might have a _sticky_ situation.”

“Ooh!” Patton beams, “I _flipping_ loved that pun, Virge!”

“These jokes are _stacking_ up, aren’t they, Pat?”

“ **Stop.** ” Logan groans from the doorway, “ _Please._ ”

“Virgil,” he hears Roman’s voice from the sitting room, “What are you wearing?”

Virgil looks down and realizes he’s still wearing Logan’s pajama shirt.

He whips around, “I…uh…”

“He spilled something on his clothes,” Logan nods, saying the half-truth with a confident ease that Virgil never could have imitated, “It was late, and he didn’t have time to wash it before he had to sleep, so I let him borrow a shirt.”

Huh. He thought Logan didn’t like lying.

Would he do something he hated just to protect Virgil? The idea made his chest feel tight.

“Right,” Virgil nods, “Yeah, they’re just upstairs in the laundry.”

“Mmhmm…” Roman teases, “It didn’t escape any of us that you came out of his room this morning, Virge.”

“Roman, stop it,” Logan snaps.

“Ooh, or what? Am I exposing something…?” 

Roman is just playing around, he knows. He loves to be the queen of gossip. Virgil can feel his hands shaking already.

“ _Roman._ ”

Logan’s voice is low and sharp, and Roman goes a shade paler.

“Alright, alright,” Roman let’s out a shaky laugh, “It was…a-a joke, Logan. Don’t you have a sense of humor, Mr. Stick-Up-The—“

“Pancakes!” Patton calls out.

Virgil sits next to Logan, who is reading, and enjoying a cup of coffee. Logan looks up at him with a concerned gaze, as if to ask, “How are you feeling?”

Virgil nods to tell him he’s okay.

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and Virgil realizes something very, very troubling is happening in his stomach. Good troubling, warm troubling, happy troubling. It was all trouble, none the less.

“Virgil.”

The way he says his name…

“Virgil?”

“Huh?” Virgil looks up.

“Where did you go, there, for a second?” Logan asks, half teasing, half concerned.

“Uh,” Virgil flushes, “I have to go.”

Logan frowns.

Virgil quickly extends the sentence, “…tooo to the bathroom. Yep. Be right back.”

“Okay,” Logan’s voice is soft, and his face is tense with concern.

Virgil quickly rushes away, and ducks into the bathroom. He leans against the door, sliding down into a sitting position.

This couldn’t be happening.

The first time Thomas ever had a crush on someone, it felt like he was panicking. Stabs of anxiety punctured his heart when Thomas was around him.

This felt…nothing like that.

It was hot and fluttery in his chest and in his stomach, tingling through his skin. 

He stumbled up and turned the valve, letting water spill into the bathtub. Maybe this would get rid of the feeling.

He was anxious because of the way Logan made him feel, with that little smile when Virgil told him he was okay, his calm voice as he reads to him, how warm he is when Virgil rests on his chest.

The little catch in his breath when Virgil cuddles with him, the way his face gets red when Virgil says something nice.

The way he can just talk to him about anything, and he knows Logan will understand.

The idea that Logan would do anything to help him, that he _wanted_ to make Virgil feel safe and loved.

The steam relaxes him, and he strips and slides into the bath, leaning back. The water envelops him in a warm security, and he sinks down low until the water is up to his collarbone.

Logan knocks, “Virgil, can I come in?”

“Uh!” Virgil freezes, “Um, not really?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just…in the bath.”

“Oh, okay,” he hears a relieved sigh beyond the door, “Do you need anything?”

“Here, just…” 

Virgil clenches his jaw, takes a breath, and says it, “Just come in. It’s annoying to talk through the door.”

Logan steps in, swinging the door open with a sharp creak, stoic as ever. He shuts it behind him to give them some privacy.

_You have the same body,_ Virgil keeps telling himself, _It’s not that weird._

Virgil covers himself, the important bits at least, and says, “No, I don’t need anything. Just needed to step away.”

“I understand,” Logan lowers the toilet lid, and sits—no, don’t sit down!—and nods, “Roman is a little…extra. Did I use that correctly?”

“Yeah, actually,” Virgil smiles a little, “Uh, well…not that I dislike your company, Logan, but why…?”

“There’s a…” Logan gestures, “A sense of anxiety in the mindscape. I wanted to make sure you were not panicking.”

“No, yeah! I’m…!” Virgil sighs, “It’s a different kind of anxiety. Good anxiety.”

Logan furrows his brow, puzzled.

“Like…” Virgil sits back, “You know when you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you’re just excited to be a part of it? It’s that kind.”

“And…what are you excited about?” Logan smiles a little.

“Uh,” Virgil flushes, stuttering through the lie, “N-Not…having as bad of panic attacks?”

Logan smiles wider, “I’m glad you feel that way, Virgil.”

“No, I mean,” Virgil rests his hand up on the side of the tub, “It really won't be as bad from now on. I know you’ll…” Virgil blushes more, “You’ll come and help, you know?”

“Always,” Logan whispers, “Although, perhaps we should have had this conversation when you were a little more decent.”

Virgil watches his eyes flicker over, and Logan’s face flushes.

Before Virgil can even process that, Logan bids him a hasty farewell and exits the bathroom, leaving a flushed, confused Virgil alone.

After a few moments of soaking with some nice-smelling soap (lavender is his favorite), he steps out of the bath, changing into his regular clothing and exiting the bathroom.

“Hey, Pat,” Virgil greets him, “You have anymore breakfast leftovers I could grab?”

“Oh, of course!” Patton gestures, “Sit, sit. I’ll bring the pancakes.”

“Awesome,” Virgil nods, and resumes a seat next to Logan, who’s looking a little redder in the face than usual.

And Virgil felt better than he had in a while.


	2. My Air, My Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Logan's POV. Turns out Virgil's not the only one who has "feelings".
> 
> THANKS to all of your nice comments on this fic! I'm really glad you guys like it.

Logan’s pretty sure the anxiety permeating the mindscape this time might be coming from him.

Roman was…harsh in the video today. To Virgil, in particular. Perhaps too harsh. He apologized, but Virgil is quiet.

Logan doesn’t like it when Virgil is quiet.

Virgil loves to talk, Logan realized as they started to hang out together more. He loves to talk about anything that’s interesting to him. Movies, music, memes, vines, etc. He adores debating, and discussing problems and questions of the Earth and beyond.

Logan hypothesizes that the only reason that Virgil doesn’t talk more to everyone is that he’s afraid that no one will care about what he has to say.

But Logan _loves_ to hear him speak. He loves to debate with him; he loves the challenge in Virgil’s eyes when he argues a point. He loves the way Virgil’s eyes light up when Logan asks to hear what he’s listening to (even though he doesn’t understand the appeal of music).

And we’re not even going to talk about that morning in the bath.

Virgil’s hands were in his pockets, his face downturned, his eyeshadow darker, sulking in his usual video spot at the base of the stairs. He looked pale, and drew back from the group.

Logan feels his palms and throat go dry, feels his heart pound, feels the sudden urge to shift from foot to foot.

**Tension in body, excess of energy, throat going dry, hands shaking.**

**Analysis:** worry or anxiety.

He is worried for Virgil.

When the video breaks up, Virgil heads immediately for his room, which is never a good sign. 

Logan follows him up, but pauses, wondering if he should talk to Virgil. Maybe he just needed some space. Maybe he wanted to be comforted. Logan bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to make anything worse.

Maybe he should just ask? He stands outside Virgil’s room for a minute before deciding against it.

Bringing up the fact that he’s anxious might make it worse. He should just…put out the offer.

He sinks out into his own bedroom and flops onto his mattress, rolling onto his stomach and digging his phone out of his pocket.

**I’m sorry for what Roman said. He can be rude at times.**

He sent the text, and then:

**If you need anything, I’ll be in my room doing research. Feel free to come in.**

No response. Virgil hardly ever responded. 

The silence was normal, but this time, it made Logan just more upset when he didn’t say anything back. 

What if he was hurting again, like last time? What if he couldn’t respond? What if he didn’t want to share the burden with Logan altogether?

Logan got up and paced the room for a moment. He pauses, and bounces on his feet.

Maybe an experiment or a book or something would get his mind off of it.

He picks up one of his astronomy books and opens it to the small bookmark of Brendon Urie photoshopped into space (Virgil made it for him).

_The Van Buren Supernova…_

_When it exploded, it lead to many unseen chemicals…_

_Many chemicals found in stars reside inside of our planet and bodies, such as carbon…_

He couldn’t focus on a single word.

 _That’s what feelings will do to you,_ he supposes, _Sentiment._

He was about to just give up reading and call when Virgil sinks into his room.

Logan swallows down the fluttering in his stomach and the blossoming warmth in his chest when he sees him.

“Virgil,” Logan smiles softly, “I was worried about you. Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugs, and Logan sees the tension in his shoulders become noticeably worse. Virgil squeezes his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms, shifts, and clenches his jaw, looking away from him.

**Tension in jaw, shoulders, hands. Slight tremor in the chin. Eyes cast away.**

**Analysis:** Virgil is very upset.

Logan stands instantly, but slowly, so as not to startle him, “Virgil…it’s alright. It’s okay.”

Virgil looks up at him, visibly shaking, “I…”

Without another word, he bursts into tears.

Logan pulls him in gently, scooping him into his arms and sinking to the floor beside his desk. He rocked him, repeating soft hushing sounds and whispering phrases like, “It’s okay, it’s alright, breathe,” again and again, until the tension in Virgil’s shoulders eased.

Virgil wraps his arms around his waist and buries his head into his chest, “I-It’s so hard…t-to just…take it, and I can’t…I don’t want to be…i-in the….”

“Shh, take a breath, take a pause,” Logan runs a hand through his hair, “Tell me in a second when you can breathe, okay? Here,” he grabs a plastic bag full of old papers and things and dumps it out, bunching it up, “Breathe, here….”

Virgil took the bag with violently shaking hands, and gasped into it. Logan held his head to his chest to ground him, and it seemed to be working.

“Every time he says those things, I-I…” Virgil shakes his head, “I feel like I don’t want to be in the video. Like I don’t deserve to be seen. O-Or…”

Virgil goes a shade paler.

“I feel like I want to duck out again, for good, Logan.”

Logan huffs, “Virgil, stop. Roman is an ass. He is, he always has been. Why do you think the only phrase I learned in Spanish is “el principe es estúpido”?”

Virgil half-heartedly laughs, and it breaks into a sob as he buries his face into Logan’s shoulder.

Logan squeezes him close, “….Because he’s stupid, and he’s wrong about most things,” Logan whispers, “Including you. You deserve to be here, Virgil. We want you to be in the videos, and part of the group,” Logan sighs.

Virgil’s grip around his waist turns crushing, and squeezes the breath out of him, but he finds that he doesn’t want Virgil to let go.

“You keep me from ducking out sometimes,” Virgil confesses, “Y-You…when I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be there anymore, I just remember that…you voluntarily choose to hang out with me, so…”

“So I must like that you’re in the group?” Logan smiles, “I do. I enjoy every time we talk, Virgil.”

It was true, but it felt almost…embarrassing to admit. Like he just told Virgil a long-hidden confession. 

After a long pause, Virgil loosens his grip and curls up in Logan’s arm. Virgil smells like lavender, Logan realizes.

“…Is it weird that, when I feel anxious or isolated, I just want to be close to you?” Virgil mumbles into his chest.

Logan swallows thickly, speaking slowly, afraid his voice will betray the hope he’s feeling, “…wh—?”

Virgil flushes and hides his face in Logan’s chest, “Never mind. I’m tired. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“It’s not weird,” Logan whispers, his breath catching.

He leans down on impulse and presses a soft kiss into Virgil’s hairline.

He sees Virgil’s cheeks go bright red, but he doesn’t move away.

And Logan considers that progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "bUt ThEy dIdNt gEt ToGeThEr!!!" yes I kNOW I'm working on it!!! I added a third chapter so that I can get them together ok.
> 
> Edit 9/23 at 1 am: If nothing too pressing comes up later today, I'm planning to have the last chapter out before tomorrow. I just want to reread and edit it again when I'm awake.


	3. Feel My Blood Runnin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time that these two figured things out.
> 
> (Also, this may make claustrophobic people a lil upset? Idk? He has a nightmare.)
> 
> Set from Virgil's, then Logan's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone.
> 
> It's Very Late but I said I would get this out asap so this is happening.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for your nice comments on this fic! Keep 'em coming. Feed my ego.
> 
> Anyway, I think it's about time these two got together, huh?

_Virgil could feel the dirt clogging his throat, feel himself gag and splutter._

_He tears at the top of the box with his fingernails, screeching as loud as he could, “HELP ME! Please, somebody, God…help me!”_

_He sobbed, and shouted in pain as his fingernails started to rip, clutched at his chest as he started to choke, started to die, st—_

Virgil wakes himself up with a scream, flinching back away from an invisible terror, sobbing hysterically.

_Please no oh god no it’s too much I don’t want to go I don’t want to die I don’t want to suffocate—_

He desperately claws his way off the bed and collapses on the floor, trying to sink through his room directly into Logan’s room, to find that it was locked. He wraps his arms around his knees and sobs. He forgot that the sides actually had to let someone into their room. 

Generally, Logan left his room open to Virgil. Most likely, Logan was asleep, and couldn’t be there to let him in.

Virgil rips open the door to his room and sprints down the mindscape hallway, skidding to a stop in front of Logan’s door.

He throws himself against the door, sobbing loudly, and sinks to his knees. The unyielding white wood of the door seems to mock him.

“Logan,” he whispers hoarsely, “Logan, please, open up…” he knocks again, scratching at the door.

Facing the wood reminds him of his nightmare, and he chokes on his tears, “L-Logan, please, Logan…”

The door swings open with a soft creak to reveal a sleepy Logan in a t-shirt and boxers. Logan runs a hand through his hair as he shoves his glasses onto his face, “Wh…”

Logan blinks, and seems to register what’s happening. His eyes widen, and he kneels to the floor, his hands hovering above Virgil’s body, afraid to touch him without permission, “Hey, Virgil, hey…”

Virgil sinks into his embrace easily, burying his head into Logan’s shoulder and letting himself break down.

He can feel Logan’s deep sigh, and relishes in the squeezing of his arms around his body.

He feels safe when Logan just holds him like this.

“You’re okay,” Logan whispers, “Breathe. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

_You’ve got me…_

Virgil shudders, swallowing, and whispers a hoarse, “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you,” Logan whispers again into his hair, pressing a soft kiss there, and Virgil feels his body go slack as Logan scoops him up and carries him into his own bedroom.

Logan puts him down on the bed, which is still warm from where Logan was sleeping. He curls up wraps his body around Logan’s pillow, breathing in his scent. It smells like peppermint. It soothes him.

Logan climbs in beside him, running a hand through his hair comfortingly as he props up on one elbow, “Nightmare?”

Virgil swallows thickly and nods.

Logan hums, “Do you want to tell me about it…?”

Virgil wipes away his tears, “….B-Buried alive. Suffocating…horrible,” he whispers.

He shudders, and sees Logan’s concerned gaze out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay,” Logan runs a hand through his hair, “No one is going to do that, Virgil. Not on my watch. You’re always safe here.”

_Always safe…_

“Please,” Virgil’s voice cracks, “Please, I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” Logan reassures him, “You can stay here, Virgil. I’ll watch out for you, okay?”

Virgil sobs once, and nods, and wishes Logan would hold him again, craving the closeness.

Logan sighs, and slides under the covers, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close to his body.

“It’s okay,” Logan squeezes him tightly, “I’ve got your back. I’ll protect you.”

“Dad joke,” Virgil chokes out.

A puff of warm air on his neck as Logan laughs softly, “…So it was.”

Logan is very warm, and the pressure against his back and on his waist where his arm rested is so incredibly comforting.

As he hears Logan’s breathing starts to slow, his anxiety fades quickly into something like…embarrassment? 

Virgil had slept in the same bed as Logan before, during his attack. But this time, it feels…different.

Logan’s whole body is pressed against his, which feels comforting and warm, but also very strange and made a shiver go up his spine.

Also, the last time he’d slept in a bed with Logan, he wasn’t aware of his feelings for him.

And now he is very painfully aware.

“Your heart rate is very fast,” Logan whispers against his ear, “Are you anxious? Would you like me to stop touching you?”

Yes, please? No, never stop? 

Who’s to say what he wanted right now?

If he really was being honest, he wanted Logan to pull him closer and press soft kisses into his shoulder until he calmed down.

But if he did that now, with their weird “I have a crush but I don’t know how to tell you” relationship, it would only make him more anxious.

“No, i-it’s okay,” Virgil scoots further back into his arms, “I’m okay.”

Logan coughs a little, and whispers, “Okay…” before burying his face in Virgil’s shoulder.

Why is he overthinking this? He should just enjoy the way Logan was touching him right now.

He sighs, and relaxes his shoulders, relishing in how safe and relaxed he feels.

It’s a rare feeling.  
_____________________________________________________________________________

Roman calls this kind of thing, “What are We?” talks.

_“Say there’s a…hypothetical person you want to ask…where you stand in a relationship. How would one, hypothetically, go about that?”_

_“Oh, you mean a “what are we?” talk. So here’s what you do…”_

AKA, asking another person in a relationship what label one wants to put on that relationship.

Logan thinks this might be useful, since he is currently sleeping next to a person who, as of right now, he has labeled as just a friend. A friend who is curled up in his arms, sound asleep.

Virgil feels like he should be more than that.

Logan knows that Virgil would never initiate a “What are we?” talk. Virgil’s too anxious about what Logan might say, about the consequences. Logan knows this. And so he was going to do it himself.

**Virgil seemed to enjoy his company, and asked for his presence often. He enjoyed Logan’s kiss to his hairline, and he actually encouraged Logan’s spooning last night. His pupil’s dilate when he looks at you, his heart rate quickens, etc.**

**Analysis:** Virgil is romantically attracted to him.

(Perhaps sexually as well, but that was for a different study).

When Logan wakes, Virgil is asleep.

Sunlight filters through his big glass windows and onto their bodies, wrapped in blankets and huddled together.

Virgil’s eyeshadow is gone, and in the morning light, Logan can see soft freckles adorning his cheeks, and his hair falls gently around his face like a soft blanket.

Somehow, during the night, they switched positions so that Virgil was curled against his chest, with Logan’s arm around Virgil, keeping him close.

 _He’s so beautiful,_ Logan thinks, _A face full of constellations._

Logan swallows, and flushes. He wants Virgil to wake up so he can see his eyes, hear his voice.

He wants to taste those partially-open lips.

Oh, no.

Sure, he analyzed that Virgil was romantically attracted to him, but he had neglected the fact that, as Roman would say, he was “head over heels” for Virgil as well.

Logan briefly wonders if Virgil is feeling better, and, like clockwork, Virgil’s eyes crack open.

“Good morning,” Logan whispers, leaning back to let the sunlight filter onto Virgil’s face a little.

Virgil groans, “Good morning…” he mumbles, “Time to get up?”

Logan’s brain overloads with just the word _cute cute cute cute cute!!!_

“If you want,” Logan runs a hand through Virgil’s soft hair, “I just wanted to see how you were sleeping.”

Virgil rolls away from him so he’s lying on his back, and arches—oh please don’t do that—stretching and yawning. Virgil smiles up at him, with his big, sleepy brown eyes, “Good. I slept…really good, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Logan murmurs, “I was thinking we’d go get breakfast once we had woken, but…let’s wait just one minute.”

Virgil’s eyes widen a little, and he raises his eyebrows, “…Okay? What for?”

This is it. Logan’s chance to say it. He has to do it.

“Virgil, I….” Logan swallows.

Is he really going to say it? Right now?

Logan doesn’t think he can wait. The anxiety, the anticipation: he already hasn’t slept well. It’s making him flush, choking him up even just during this small interaction.

Virgil is staring at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I know that you’ve just woken, but I want to ask you about something,” Logan swallows and shifts onto his elbow.

“Oh, yeah?” Virgil’s eyes are open and clear, all traces of sleep gone, “What about?”

“Um…” Why is it suddenly so hard to say it? “I apologize if this will make you uncomfortable, but…”

Virgil sits up, and positions his body, turning to face him, sitting criss-cross, “Yeah?”

“I…” Logan swallows, and sits up as well, “We spend time together every single day. I enjoy our talks, and our time playing games, or just…passing time in your company. You have spent…a few nights in my room, and I…well…”

Virgil’s eyes are scanning him for any sign of distress or anger.

Deep breath.

“I have found myself…” Logan shifts, “Incredibly romantically attracted to you, Virgil. And I was wondering…if you, perhaps, felt the same.”

Virgil’s jaw fell open, his eyes wide, betraying no emotion except for surprise.

A long silence falls, and Logan just stares at the bedspread, picking at a loose thread.

Logan briefly wonders if he’d misread the situation entirely, until Virgil stutters through an answer.

“Uh, y-yeah,” he blushes, “Yes, of course, I…for a while now, I…” Virgil rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

Logan’s chest blossoms with warmth, and he smiles, “I’m…so glad. I don’t…” Logan swallows, “I don’t understand romantic attraction, Virgil. But I know that I feel it for you. I know that…that’s the answer I was…hoping that you would say.”

Virgil is flushed, and grinning, eyes tearing up.

His brain was just bursting at the seams with _Virgil is yours he is yours that cute boy right there wants you and—_

“May I kiss you?” Logan asks, swallowing, “I…would like to kiss you.”

Virgil’s eyes widen, and he nods, “Uh, y-yeah, sure. I mean…” Virgil swallows, “Of course.”

Logan smiles, his heart pounding.

 _I get to kiss him!! I’m going to kiss him!!_ Logan’s unhelpful brain supplies.

Virgil’s lips are chapped, but gentle. He tastes like salt and coffee and vanilla, and something uniquely Virgil that made Logan’s pulse quicken and made him reach to the back of his neck and pull Virgil in closer.

Virgil grabs fistfuls of Logan’s shirt, leaning in to meet him, gladly letting Logan pull him closer.

After what felt like a moment too soon, Logan leans back, separating their lips. Virgil is bright red, and he bites his lip, which sends Logan’s heartbeat skyrocketing.

“Ok?” Logan asks.

Virgil goes even redder and nods.

“I’m starving,” Logan stands, looks over his shoulder, and smiles, “Want to go eat?” he offers his hand.

“…Hell yeah,” Virgil whispers, smiles, and takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I hope you liked it!
> 
> (Also, upon request...I might be able to be persuaded into Logan's "sexual attraction analysis" for Virgil that he briefly mentions).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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